Ladies, Chauffeurs and Trouser Frocks
by Lavinia Swire
Summary: "I'm looking for something new and exciting." The trouser frock, plus a certain romance, viewed from another perspective.


**I don't own Downton Abbey.**

**So I have my exam results day tomorrow and I'm incredibly stressed. What's the best solution? Well, watching Downton Abbey and writing Sybil/Branson fanfiction, obviously!**

**I wanted to look at Sybil and Branson from an outsider's perspective, and then I rewatched Episode 4 and they mentioned the dressmaker Madame Swann. Cue my random brainwave.**

**Reviews provide stress relief.**

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><p><strong><em>1912<em>**

'Madame Swann – Dressmaker' reads the sign above the door. In reality there is no Madame Swann; there is only Mrs Swinn and a host of sewing assistants who help in the shop (Agnes and Ethel and Mildred and half a dozen more). There's a sewing machine that Mrs Swinn doesn't trust the girls to go near, let alone use, dresses and coats everywhere and a handful of distinguished regular clients (namely, the Crawley family).

When Agnes had first started working for Mrs Swinn, she had been utterly innocent of the kinds of outfits that could be bought if you had the money and a good dressmaker. Since then, there must have been hundreds of dresses ordered, stitched and boxed up ready to be sent off to Downton Abbey. They always had the largest orders of the most beautiful outfits. Agnes and the other sewing girls often discussed in hushed tones the balls and dinners that these dresses were destined for. The thrill of knowing that the dresses _you_ made would be seen at such parties was nearly as good as attending yourself.

The downsides to these immense orders were the hours of sewing, the rows and rows of tiny stitches on the most flimsy fabrics, the late nights up with stinging eyes finishing a late order. Agnes vividly remembers an occasion when all three sisters visited, along with their mother, to buy dresses for the season in London. Lady Edith was going to be presented at court, so a massive order was placed for her, as well as various dresses for Lady Mary. Even Lady Sybil, who wouldn't be at any of the balls or garden parties that the older girls were discussing, was getting several new frocks.

The two older sisters had stood with the bored air of two thoroughbred ponies being prepared for a show, but Lady Sybil had rushed about examining dresses and fabric samples. Her keenness had even won over Mrs Swinn, who was famous among the assistants for being unreasonably angry with her staff and strictly professional with the customers. Agnes had been so surprised and taken with Lady Sybil's eagerness and awe over the frocks and decorations that she hardly minded the hours spent finishing the delicate stitching on her dresses.

That had been when Lady Sybil was not yet in her teens. Now she is a young lady, but still sighs when she gets a new dress and is still such a child in many ways, never having had to grow up.

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><p>It's early afternoon when Lady Sybil briskly enters the shop. Agnes can't help smiling as she greets her, no matter how improper it is. Lady Sybil's enthusiasm for each of her new outfits is always infectious, and she treats the staff like human beings, which is uncommon.<p>

"Will it be the usual design, m'lady, or were yer wantin' somethin' special?"

Agnes asks the usual question expecting the usual answer. While the evening dresses and special outfits are wonderful, the everyday ones always seem to be based on the same pattern; when the girls grow out of a frock they come and buy a new one that is almost identical. They are of the highest quality fabric, naturally, and are lovelier than any dress Agnes has ever owned, but they are positively ordinary compared to some of their other gowns.

"As a matter of fact I wanted to buy something different this time."

Lady Sybil glances out of the window at the car outside. Or perhaps she's actually looking at the man standing by the car – Agnes guesses he must be the chauffeur, though why Lady Sybil is viewing him with that expression she has no idea.

She turns back and lowers her voice conspiratorially, as though the skirts and bodices lying around the shop can listen into their conversation.

"I'm not sure exactly what I'm looking for, but I want something new and exciting. Something…" Her voice trails off, and Agnes stares at her, concerned. Sybil's eyes are fixed on a point behind Agnes's left shoulder and her mouth is slightly open.

"Something like that."

Agnes turns.

The bright blue outfit Lady Sybil is gesturing towards is a mock-up of an item from one of the high fashion magazines. Mrs Swinn makes a point of knowing how to produce each of the garments currently in fashion in London or Paris, but there is never any call for them in Ripon or the surrounding area – she really only makes them for practice, or to show off to the assistants.

"That? That's the latest in London."

Sybil is staring at the dress as though a minor miracle has just occurred in the back of the small shop.

"It's beautiful," she whispers in admiration.

"M'lady, are yer sure? It's a bit – well, it's – won't 'er Ladyship be very angry?"

Sybil grins.

"It is _exactly_ what I'm looking for. Will you be able to get one made up for Friday?"

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><p>That Friday Agnes is only just boxing up the dress (it had been a tremendous rush to get it finished on time, and Mrs Swinn had been shouting at each of the sewing assistants in turn since nine o'clock that morning) when the chauffeur she recognises from Lady Sybil's last visit comes nervously through the doorway.<p>

He looks exceedingly out of place among the dresses and fabrics on display around the walls, and obviously feels it too.

"I've come from Downton Abbey. Is Lady Sybil's – um – dress ready?"

The look on his face makes Agnes think that he knows the frock is not of the usual design, even if he remains ignorant of the finer details.

"All ready to go," she replies, hastily knotting the last piece of string

He grins. "Something new and exciting, she said she wanted. Does it fit that description?"

"In every way," she assures him.

"Well," he says, half to himself, "I'll have to make sure I get a look at it."

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><p><em><strong>1921<strong>_

She hears the door open, and then there's a gasp.

"Agnes! How lovely to see you! How are you?"

Agnes turns and has to restrain a beam when she sees Lady Sybil.

The war has changed her, as it has changed everything. She looks far older now, with lines on her face that certainly don't belong there, but she is smiling at Agnes as though she is a long-lost friend.

It seems strange to Agnes remembering the last time she saw Lady Sybil; it had been before the war, when she was going to London for the season and was so excited she could hardly breathe. That had been years ago. Agnes had heard that she had taken up nursing during the war, but nothing more than that. She can't guess at the horrors she must have seen. She briefly wonders which of them caused which line etched on her face, or if it is simply the effect of the war on a young woman who had been protected for her whole life and so found the terrors of the real world a hundred times worse.

"It's good to see you too, m'lady. I'm glad you're well. And I suppose you'd say I'm Madame Swann now. I run the shop now, y'see."

Sybil nods, looking around her. The shop has changed considerably since Mrs Swinn's days before the war. The number of sewing assistants has dwindled (departing to nurse or work in munitions factories) leaving only three beside Agnes. Mrs Swinn herself is gone, passing away during the last months of the Great War. Despite her temper and irritability, Agnes misses her: the shop doesn't seem the same without her shouting at a sewing assistant or rattling away on the old sewing machine in the back room. The sewing machine is Agnes's now, along with everything else. The shop itself had nearly shut down during the war – people hadn't want to waste money on frivolities like new frocks – but Mrs Swinn had obstinately refused to close and they had hung on somehow.

But no matter how many things have changed, there are some things that will always stay the same. The latest modern fashions casually displayed, the chatter of the assistants from the back of the shop, gossiping about the grand parties and events that _their_ dresses will see, the buzz when one of 'them lot from up at the Abbey' enters the shop.

Agnes returns swiftly to the present day and looks expectantly at Lady Sybil.

"Will it be the usual, m'lady, or is there somethin' special you're requirin'?"

"As a matter of fact there is."

Lady Sybil unconsciously glances out of the large front window of the shop, the way she might have done once before, in another lifetime. Agnes follows her gaze and sees a terrifying looking contraption parked outside. It's a motorcycle; she has seen a few in London, although this is the first in Ripon, as far as she knows.

Next to it is a pale young man who Agnes is sure she recognises, though she can't place him. When he sees Lady Sybil he smiles. She smiles softly back at him, and Agnes suddenly gets the feeling that, for the two of them, she and the shop and the rest of the world have vanished entirely.

Lady Sybil turns back to Agnes, still smiling and blushing slightly, and it's only then that Agnes sees the simple gold band on her fourth finger.

"Agnes, I wonder if you'll be able to make me a wedding dress?"


End file.
